John Carter of Hogwarts
by Andrew Aelfwine
Summary: Seventh Year AU. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts Master is a very old Hogwarts old boy indeed--John Carter, the Warlord of Mars. Warnings: polyamoury, silliness, and extraterrestrial gunfire.


John Carter of Hogwarts

A Harry Potter fanfic

By Andrew yclept Aelfwine

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The characters and situations of the Harry Potter series are copyright J.K. Rowling. The characters and situations of the Barsoom series are copywright E.R. Burroughs. They may not be used or reproduced commercially without permission. The use of these characters and situations is not to be construed as challenge to said copyright. They are merely borrowed for this work of non-commercial fanfiction, from which the author derives no financial benefit.

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Warnings: Alternate Universe. Gratuitous silliness. Parodic elements. Comedic violence. Firearms. Polyamoury. Heterosexuality. Homosexuality. Bisexuality. References to nudity, BDSM, and very grotesquely bad novels. Yours Truly.

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"Christ," Ron said, "don't tell me we've _already_ lost Professor Carter?"

Hermione looked up at the clock. "If he's not here by quarter past, I'll go to the Headmaster." Ron wasn't paying attention. Instead, he was looking towards Draco Malfoy, and fingering his wand. "On second thought, _you_'ll go to Professor Dumbledore, and I'll stay here to maintain order," she said.

The door flew open with a crash. "Kaor!" bellowed a mighty bass voice. "I am John Carter, better known as Captain Jack Carter of Virginia, lately an officer in the armies of the Confederate States of America, now Warlord of Barsoom, or, as you may know it, Mars! Rejoice, young Earthlings, for the greatest swordsman on two planets has come to instruct you in Defense Against the Dark Arts! And that, my students, is no boast, but a statement of fact."

Every head in the room turned towards the entrance, and many a jaw dropped, for Professor Carter, who last night at the Sorting Feast had worn ordinary black robes unremarkable in style, albeit of fine fabric well tailored, now was dressed in an abbreviated ensemble of leather straps, trimmed with gems and precious metals, which seemed meant largely to support his pistol, dagger, and pair of swords and only secondarily to prevent him being arrested for public indecency.

"My," Hermione said, "he's dishy, isn't he?"

"Absolutely," Ron said. "Muscles on musc-- Merlin's balls, I didn't say that, did I?"

"What, Weasel, you're afraid you can't afford to have any taste?" Draco said.

"A bit the loudmouth, isn't he?" Harry said.

"Look at his _chest_, Harry, and who cares about his mouth?" Parvati said. "On second thought... yes, he'd kiss divinely. Unlike someone else."

"I never kissed you!"

"What, did you think I was talking about my Yule Ball escort? Alas, I was tragically kept from my chance to snog _him_."

"I said I was sorry."

"A year and a half later, and only because Séamus showed you that issue of the _Sol_ that claimed you were carrying on with me and Lavender and that lusci-I mean, that _loony_ Ravenclaw girl."

"What?"

"Students!" Professor Carter hammered the lectern with a mighty fist. "Under my tutelage you will learn the secret magics of the Red Planet, the art of Apparation between the planets, the tricks of swordsmanship which will allow you to defeat the giant six-armed green barbarians who wander the dead sea bottoms of Barsoom! But you must listen to my words! For when you travel where danger's near, where the scent of guns is in the air and the flash of swords is ever present, a single moment of inattention might mean your death."

"Sweet _Christ_," Hermione muttered, "it's bad enough that I _read_ those books, let alone this."

"It could be worse," Lavender said, "we could have got Tarl Cabot, say."

"Oh, that wouldn't be so bad. I've always wanted a chance to try Avada Kedavra."

"You're certain you'd not yield your feminine modalities to the overwhelming force of his evolutionarily-mandated masculine dominance?"

"Absolutely. Harry's the only boy I'd ever let tie me up. And he's a switch." Two desks away, Harry's jaw dropped.

"What about girls?"

"Ginny and Luna have got first claim on both of us, but they're quite open-minded. If you asked nicely..."

"Mmm... perhaps 'Vati and I will be forced to drag all four of you off to the Room of Requirement and have our wicked way with you. As long as none of you call safeword, of course."

"Could we have our wicked way with the two of you afterwards?"

"Absolutely!" Parvati said. "Would you tell Harry I've always had a fantasy about him dressed up like Dick Turpin? 'Harry the Handsome Highwayman' has got such a ring to it."

"Wait a mo. Shouldn't someone be asking me?"

"No, Harry," Hermione said. "That's the price of having a harem."

"What? Who said I had a harem?"

"Ginny, Luna, and I. We talked about it last week. We were going to tell you on the Express, but then Millicent Bulstrode's cat got in our compartment and started chasing Ron..."

"I don't want to think about that."

"Don't be a prat, Harry, it was funny. Especially when Colin Creevy tried to Stupefy the cat, and missed."

"I don't want to talk about it, either."

"Oh?" Parvati said. "What happened?"

Hermione grinned. "Well, he hit Ron instead of the cat. And..."

"And...?"

"He had a toffee in his mouth and mispronounced the spell. None of us could quite make out what he actually said, but Ron thought he was in love with Harry for the next hour and kept trying to..."

"I said I didn't want to talk about it."

"Just think, Harry. If we'd not been there to protect our boyfriend, Colin might have got his photos of Ron trying to kiss you."

"Oh. Thanks, I suppose."

"You can thank us in the Prefects' Bath tonight. I hope you don't mind Myrtle watching. We owe her a favour, and she fancies you, so..."

"Listen, young Earthlings," Professor Carter boomed, "and I will prove the superiority of the Barsoomian radium pistol over the earthly revolver. If afterwards you desire to replace your current sidearms, you may place an order with the Helium Repeating Arms Company, local offices in London, Paris, and New York."

"But, Professor Carter," said Draco, "we haven't got sidearms. It's not legal, sir."

"No sidearms!!" thundered the Professor. "No sidearms!! To what depths has this once fine and upstanding institution descended? In my day _no_ student was allowed to attend class without a sword at his belt. Or hers, either! And it was no more permitted to go out for a ride of a bright spring day without a pistol or a bow for every member of the party than it was to ride out without clothing. In fact, while at times we dispensed with the latter, never did we go without the former. Why, there were rogue Goblin mercenaries! Rabid killer hippogriffs! And crazed trolls!"

"But, sir," said Draco, "we've got the Killing Curse."

"That bit of mumbling? The one that only works if you're angry and bitter and hate the person you're killing? The one that you can't use with a fighting smile on your lips? The one that backfired and killed its most notable exponent when he tried it on a mere babe-in-arms? It's quite worthless, young Malfew."

"Malfoy, sir."

"Malfewmet?"

"Aaarrrrghhhh!" Draco whipped out his wand. "Avad-" boom

Professor Carter holstered his weapon. "And that, my dear students, is why sidearms are necessary."

"My God!" Goyle cried. "He's killed Draco!"

"You bastard!" said Crabbe.

"Alas, poor Draco," said Pansy Parkinson. "We must set his body adrift on the lake in a flaming ship, following the traditions of his noble Pureblood Viking Wizard ancestors. And in obedience to those traditions," she got up from her seat and knelt before Harry, "I, as his fiancée, must submit myself to his greatest and noblest enemy." She tore off her robes, proving that she kept the ancient Pureblood customs and wore nothing but jewelry beneath.

"Wait!" Lavender said. "I outbid Malfoy for a collection of Victorian lace tablecloths this summer! I beat him to a stunning Goblin-made Georgian candelabrum at an estate sale the summer before! And he envied my Edwardian ballgowns! I'm sure _I_ was his greatest and noblest enemy!"

Parvati gasped. "Lavender!"

Lavender took her hand. "Don't worry, love, I'll share."

Neville broke off staring at Pansy's breasts and jumped to his feet. "I thrashed him at Gobstones a hundred games straight! I'm very sure I'm his greatest enemy!"

"I always argued against him in the WizardNet newsgroups," Séamus Finnegan said. "He thought the HMS Indomitable could win a fight with the Centennial Raptor, poor man."

Moaning Myrtle manifested herself with a popping of displaced air and a scatter of water droplets. "But it was I who regularly beat him at cards! The delectable Parkinson is mine!"

"No!" Pansy cried. "Take me, Harry Potter! We must conceive a new body for his spirit to inhabit!"

"Hermione, help!"

"Oh, I don't know, Harry. She's rather fetching, isn't she? And the Hat does keep saying we should unite the houses. We'd need a Hufflepuff, of course, but I suspect we could get, say, Hannah Abbott without any great difficulty."

Harry turned pale. "Err, Parkinson... didn't Professor Carter just kill Malfoy? Doesn't that make _him_ Malfoy's greatest enemy?"

"Dishy though he is," Pansy said, "he's older than Dumbledore. And I'm told his wife's not willing to share. Whereas _your_ ladies are, I take it, rather open-minded."

"Alas," said Professor Carter, "the beautiful Princess of Helium is straight, and very monogamous. Even a Warlord fears her wrath!"

"That we are, Pansy dear. I'm sure Luna would just love to see all your tattoos. Especially that Thestral on your lovely arse. And Ginny said just yesterday that she'd love some advice about nipple rings before she gets hers done."

"Pardon me," Draco said, "but I'm not actually dead." He sat up, took a handkerchief from his sleeve, and began wiping red liquid from his face and chest.

"Vampire!" Parvati shouted, drawing a stake from her handbag. "Although you would sell for no more than a single silver seagull in the slave market of Koo-lai-da, pansy-with-a-small-p, your Mistresses will save you from the Beast."

Pansy reached into the shredded pile of her clothing and pulled out a stake of her own. "Actually, I'll kill it myself. And you can forget about ever getting into my robes, Patil. That Gorean rubbish is a gigantic turn-off."

"For God's sake, I'm not a vampire." Draco pulled a crucifix from inside his shirt and kissed it. "See, no burns."

"There _are_ Catholic vampires," Neville said.

Draco shook his head, took a clove of garlic from his pocket, and ate it. "Satisfied?"

"Inferi aren't harmed by garlic," Lavender said. "In fact, brains sautéed with garlic are their favourite meal."

"I am _not_ an Inferius. Nor a vampire. Nor even a zombie."

"Unfortunately," Myrtle said, "he's telling the truth."

"How do you know?" Séamus said.

"It's a dead thing. You wouldn't understand." Tears trickled down Myrtle's cheeks. "But that doesn't change the fact that the toothsome and interestingly-pierced Pansy should be mine."

"So," Neville said, "how _did_ you survive, Malfoy?"

"I am in possession of a talisman of protection which has been in my family for twelve generations."

"Ballocks," Blaise Zabini said, "the Malfoy talisman of protection against extraterrestrial gunfire passed into my branch of the family over a hundred years ago."

"Actually," Professor Carter said, ejecting the cartridges from his weapon's cylinder and reloading, "I charged my pistol with paint pellets this morning. Twenty points to Slytherin for my several-greats-nephew Draco's assistance in demonstrating a basic principle of Defense: shoot first and spell later."

"Sorry for the awkwardness, Pansy," Draco said, "but the simulation had to be realistic."

"On reflection... I'll take Myrtle's offer." Pansy took up her wand and began spelling her robes back together.

"Huzzah! Meet me in the Prefects' Bath tonight, my corporeal concubine."

"Wait!" Hermione said, "we've already reserved the Bath."

"You did say I was welcome to watch," Myrtle said. "We don't mind sharing if you don't. Am I right, Pansy?"

"Absolutely."

Hermione grinned. "I must admit that I've long harboured a certain scientific curiosity about whether your clothes would come off, Myrtle."

"That they do, but if your scientific curiosity demands knowledge of what's beneath them, you'll have to come to the Bath tonight."

"We will," Hermione said.

"Excellent," Pansy said.

"Help!" Harry cried.

"My heart bleeds for you, Potter," said Séamus.

Ron tried to say something, but only managed to mumble through the gag which Parvati had slipped into his mouth whilst Lavender bound his hands behind his back.

Daphne Greengrass drew her wand. "Halt! I can't prevent you Gryffindors engaging in your sick games within your own tower, but I will not allow this vile rapine to proceed before my very eyes."

"Don't be silly, Daph, it's only a scene," Parvati said. "We've a safeword and everything. Isn't that right, Ron?" She removed the gag.

"Absolutely. Now, could I have my gag back? It makes it easier not to think about my sister and my two best friends participating in a _ménage à six_."

"Jealous, much?" Daphne said.

"Maybe a little."

"We'll do our best to help you forget," Parvati said, patting him on the head as she re-gagged him.

"Could I join in?" Daphne said. "I've always had a bit of a Weasley fetish, I have to confess."

"I think we could manage that," Parvati said. Ron nodded, and Lavender said "The safeword is 'palomino', lovely Daphne."

"Five points from Gryffindor and Slytherin for engaging in BDSM during class," Professor Carter said. "Twenty points to Gryffindor and Slytherin for proper use of a safeword. Class is dismissed."

Harry squeaked something, but it was lost as Hermione threw him over her shoulder and carried him out the door. A pair of squeals outside suggested that they had met with both Luna and Ginny in the corridor.

Draco remained in his chair, head in hand. Blaise dropped to one knee and put a hand on his shoulder. "There, old sport, buck up. Pansy's only fooling with the ghost and the Potter-cult. She'll be back at your side inside of a week, I'm sure of it."

"Lucky little..."

"Potter's just got a sexy scar and a big heap of destiny on him, that's all. Don't fret yourself. You're worth ten of him, in the end."

"It's not Potter I'm jealous of," Draco moaned. "It's Pansy. She gets to..."

"Oh, Draco," Blaise murmured, pulling him into a hug. "Stuck on Potter, is that it? Well... I'm told he's not half so well hung as rumour has it."

"Don't care."

"Well, it's not the same thing, but I have it on reliable authority there's a bloke just as stuck on _you_ as you're stuck on Potter."

"Nott? Don't want him. Weasel? Don't want him, either. Well, not much, anyhow."

"No, you silly git. Me."

Draco went very still. "Truly?"

"Yes."

"Blaise? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure... and you've always seemed to actually fancy Pansy. I mean, beyond the whole arranged marriage thing."

"Blaise, Blaise... Pansy fancies you. As I do."

"Truly?"

"Yes. But... what will Millicent think?"

"How else do you think we got together? There I was, pining with unrequited lo... err... _lust_ for you, and who but Millicent caught me in the common room writing your name over and over and over again? And said she'd done exactly the same?"

"Oh. Do you know how Millicent feels about Pansy?"

"I think she's... at least as flexible that way as Pansy herself. I know she had a pash for her First Year."

"Oh."

"Well, think about it. We're not going anywhere. And if all you want is to make Pansy jealous, or the Scarhead either... well, I don't think Millicent would mind helping out. I know _I_ wouldn't."

"Never that, Blaise. It wouldn't be right to _use_ my stunningly handsome sixth cousin who really ought to grow his hair out and wear it in braids like a sexy African warrior..."

"Only if you grow yours out as well."

"But I'll look like my dad!"

"No, you'll look like a very sexy long-haired Draco Malfoy. Besides, Uncle Lucius is pretty handsome, for an old guy."

"I didn't need to hear that."

"Well, it's true. And I'm sure you'll be just as dishy when you're the Malfoy of Malfoy."

"If we live that long."

"Of course we will. It's all in order. Potter's little party in the Bath will give He-Who's-Badly-Named a stunning headache on account of their mental link and the Dark Lord's complete disinterest in girls and boys alike. So, he'll reach for his headache pills, which just happen to have been replaced with a bespoke treat from the Weasel twins. Which will turn him to an exact simulacrum of the Hippogriff that MacNair's obsessed with, the one that got away Third Year.

"And who's guarding the Dark Lord tonight but himself? Complete with axe."

"Heavens. But what about the... objects? The ones nobody's supposed to know about."

"Horcruces? They've been collected over the summer, by the Reconstituted Order of St. Walpurgis. And at the very same moment as the axe descends, they'll be fed to the worst demonic entity outside of Hell itself."

"You mean..."

"Yes. Barney the Dinosaur."

"So. You're telling me that the Light wins, the Dark loses, and it's all because of Slytherin in the end?"

"Yes. Just like it was with Grindelwald."

"But Perfect Potter gets all the credit, doesn't he?"

"Not this time. Our Harry's not a glory hound like Dumbledore."

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_The Daily Prophet_, 14 May 2020

Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Millicent Malfoy-Zabini-Parkinson-Bulstrode are delighted to announce the upcoming marriage of their daughter Lucretia to Sirius Potter-Granger-Lovegood-Weasley, Sonia Longbottom-Abbot-Bones, Miranda Snape-McGonagall-Sprout, and Dymphna Lupin-Tonks-Jones. Owing to the looming shortage of hyphens in the Wizarding world, the newlyweds will take the name Murgatroyd.

**Here endeþ ðe fic.**


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